


all these things I see

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-24
Updated: 2007-04-24
Packaged: 2018-09-03 20:37:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8729227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: "Jared has three moles on his face. One high on his left cheek, another just to the right of his mouth, and the last is small - a tiny one near the corner of his left eye. Jensen knows because he’s memorized them. He’s thought about touching them all."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**Title** \- all these things I see  
**Pairing** \- Jared/Jensen  
**Rating** \- R  
**Word Count** \- 1200  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_**all these things I see**_  
  
  
  
Jared has three moles on his face. One high on his left cheek, another just to the right of his mouth, and the last is small - a tiny one near the corner of his left eye. Jensen knows because he’s memorized them. He’s thought about touching them all.   
  
Jared drives a truck and taps the roof under every stoplight. He drinks his coffee with four sugars. He loves cereal, but hates oatmeal. He picks the grapes out of every fruit platter on set, and calls his momma on breaks sometimes when he thinks no one’s watching.   
  
Jensen’s watching, though. When it comes to Jared, he never stops.   
  
*  
  
They film on Saturday, straight through lunch until the sun is setting and the sky is turning grey. Jared’s standing next to him, the sleeve of Sam’s jacket brushing against Dean’s. He blows on the top of his coffee, watches the PA’s set up the next scene and says, “You wanna go out later? Get a few drinks or something?”  
  
Jensen looks up. He watches Jared’s eyes, his mouth, the way his cheeks crease and dent under the weight of his dimples.   
  
“I’m good,” Jensen looks away and shakes his head. “But thanks.”  
  
*  
  
When Jensen was thirteen he had buck teeth, floppy hair, and a crush on Becky Waters. She had long blonde hair she wore in pigtails tied back with hot pink ribbons, and a purple bookbag with a bright blue unicorn on the front. She used to hold hands with Joey DelRay in the hallways at school, but then she started walking with her friends instead, not even looking when Joey called her name after the last bell rang.   
  
Jensen saved his allowance from helping his momma around the house for weeks, until he had enough money to buy Becky the locket he saw at the convenience store in town. It was gold-plated on a chain, with a rose etched on the front and a diamond chip in the center of the flower. He was going to give it to her in school on Monday.  
  
By the time he saw her Monday morning though, she was holding hands with Steve Thompson, and Jensen stayed back, his fingers curled around the locket until the rough edge of the chain started to dig into his hand.   
  
*  
  
Jensen’s phone is ringing. He’d switched it to vibrate, but that’s even more annoying, hearing the buzz and hum as it rattles across the coffee table every time someone calls. He picks it up. Sees Jared’s name and number light up on a screen of blue, and thumbs the button on the side to disconnect the call.   
  
*  
  
Jensen wakes up the next morning with his face smashed in the couch cushions, his arm dragging on the floor, and six messages on his cell phone. Five are from Jared, one is from Chris belching drunkenly over the roar of a party in the background before hanging up.   
  
Jensen calls Chris back first.   
  
“’The’fuck?” Chris says, his voice barely a growl.   
  
Jensen flops onto his back and stares at the ceiling. “You called last night.”  
  
There’s a pause and then, “That was _last night_ , asshole. Don’t fucking call me back now.” Then he hangs up.   
  
Jensen sighs. That didn’t go over well. When the phone rings he forgets to check the display first and flips it open, expecting Chris and getting Jared.   
  
“What the fuck, man.” Jared’s voice is tight and hot. Jensen closes his eyes. Great. “You pissed at me or something?”  
  
“No. I just.” This isn’t what Jensen wants. “No.”  
  
“Because I can fuck off if that’s what you want.”  
  
“No. I.” _I want--_ , he thinks, but he can’t say it, not yet. “I’m not pissed.”  
  
“Then what the fuck, Jensen?” Jared’s angry, frustrated. Jensen knows how he feels.   
  
“Nothing. You wanna go get some food?”  
  
*  
  
The diner is small and crowded. They wind up sitting at the counter next to an eighty year old man eating scrambled eggs and rye toast, and a waitress who’s on her break, sipping coffee and talking on a cell phone.   
  
Jared and he are too tall for the stools. Their legs twist and bump, and every time Jensen reaches for something – a menu, a napkin, his cup of coffee – their arms brush, skin touching, tan against tan.   
  
A waitress comes over. She has bright red hair twisted into a bun on top of her head and a tired smile. Jared pushes the menu over and orders a fruit plate and waffles. Jensen gets an egg-white omelet, apple juice and more coffee. When she comes back a minute later with Jensen’s drinks and Jared’s fruit, Jensen can almost _feel_ when Jared smiles at her. He chuckles to himself.   
  
“What?” Jared asks. He’s picking the grapes from the plate and popping them into his mouth one by one.   
  
“Nothing.” Jensen smiles and stirs his coffee. He takes a sip and it burns the roof of his mouth.   
  
*  
  
That night Jensen lets himself think about it. Lets himself want.   
  
He wants Jared all the time. Wants to see Jared in the morning, rumpled and quiet and kiss the corner of his eyes where they’re still puffy with sleep. Wants to drag his hands over Jared’s chest, pluck the buttons of his shirt with shaking fingers, memorize each patch of skin, every mole, every dimple. Jensen wants to touch his lips to Jared’s face, his throat, his hands, and then he wants to lean back and have Jared kiss and touch him too.   
  
Jensen wants to know that when he goes back to LA that Jared will come. That they’ll see each other. That they’ll hang out and drink and talk and fuck, and when they go to sleep at night it’s nothing more than the space between night and morning when they wake up and do it all over again.   
  
He wants to tell Jared: _If you leave, I’m coming with you_ , but these aren’t things you say. They’re not things you should want.   
  
Jensen knows that. Still, when he curls shaking fingers around his erection, when he fucks up into his fist, hard and tight and a little too rough, thinking about Jared, choking out his name as he comes, he can’t stop himself.   
  
He wants one night when he doesn’t have to.   
  
*  
  
Jared has two dogs. A brother and a sister, a mother and a father. He reads the sports section and the comics in the paper every day. He watches old black and white movies when he feels homesick. He hates Chinese food. He only drinks bottled beer.   
  
Jared is terrible at poker, not too bad at darts, and can kick Jensen’s ass at pool. He loves football and hates hockey. He puts extra cheese on his pizza. He never remembers the punchline to jokes, and he laughs bigger and brighter than anyone Jensen has ever seen.   
  
And Jensen’s in love with him. When it comes to Jared, Jensen can’t stop.   
  
  
  
-end-


End file.
